Authors: Fallon Brown
Stained Snow
Stained Snow
by Fallon Brown
Text copyright © 2016 Fallon Brown
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by:
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Stained Snow is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is coincidental.
To Lynn,
For introducing me to my first western.
This book wouldn’t have existed otherwise.
Chapter 1
Wyoming Territory
April 28, 1887
William Jensen pushed his horse farther down the trail, the heat of his rage in sharp contrast to the brisk spring breeze. It wasn’t enough to cool him, even though he could feel snow on the wind. Apparently winter wasn’t done with them yet. The sun shone bright in the sky, which felt out of place with what he led the sheriff toward.
His knuckles turned white as the reins bit into his hands and his legs tightened around the horse’s sides. The confused animal took a faltering step. He forced himself to relax his grip and urged the horse on again, rubbing a hand over the muscled neck to soothe him. The animal’s hooves sunk into the mud, which only slowed them down more and added to William’s simmering emotions.
“Will, slow down.” The sheriff followed behind him, pushing his horse to keep up. He almost sounded like he’d been the one to do the running, with pauses between words, as if he had to catch his breath. “If what you said is true, those people won’t be going anywhere.”
William clenched his jaw but pulled back slightly on the reins, letting his horse slow into a gentler pace. “They’re on my land, Carl. I don’t know who they are, but they were put there.”
The sheriff came up beside him. “So you’ve already said. They’ll still be there even if it takes a few more minutes.”
“I don’t like it. David could have been with me when I found them.” The boy looked so disappointed when Will told him he couldn’t ride into town with him. He planned to bring the sheriff straight out here, and no way did he want his son to see this. “Whatever’s going on, we need to stop it.”
“We will. I will. I am the sheriff here. You need to deal with your ranch, Will, and leave this to me.”
“Not if he’s bringing it out to my ranch, Carl. There’s only one person who would do that.”
“You don’t even know if that’s what’s happening. No one from town has disappeared. You said you didn’t recognize them. The killer could have been a stranger, too.”
“He could be.” He’d give him that much. It wasn’t a stranger, though. He was as sure of that as anything. He knew who stood behind this.
“How long’s it been since you seen him anyways?”
“Years.” He’d never forgotten the moment he’d last seen his brother. “Doesn’t mean he’s not around just because I haven’t seen him. Those horses of mine went missing the other week, remember? One of them I’d raised from a foal. I know it was him.”
The sheriff shook his head but didn’t say anything else. They rode for several minutes without speaking, only the creak of saddle leather and swishing of the horse’s tails for sound. William was thankful for the near silence. Though birds sang in the cottonwood trees along the stream. That sound soothed him where voices didn’t.
He preferred his ranch to going into town. Between his wife and son and the few hands he hired to work the ranch, he had more than enough company. It almost made him wish he’d buried the bodies and gone about his business. Not even brought the sheriff into it. He hadn’t even considered that until they’d started back out here.
It wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. Especially as a part-time sheriff. At least Carl didn’t often call upon him for those duties. The sheriff had done him more than one favor in the last few years. He owed him.
William rode up to the blanket he had staked down over the bodies. He wasn’t sure it would do much good, but he hadn’t wanted to leave them there for the scavengers to get. He hoped the blanket would be a suitable deterrent. The ground around it showed some signs of digging, but otherwise it seemed undisturbed.
“This them?” the sheriff asked, riding up beside him.
“Yeah. Horses were restless last night, but I didn’t ride out till this morning. This may have been what stirred them up.”
“You didn’t hear anything?”
“My hearing isn’t that good, Carl. I was inside with my family.” Where he wanted to be headed for right now.
“Okay. Thought maybe you’d heard a scream or a cry for help or something.”
“They weren’t killed here, Carl. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at them,” he said and helped unstake the blanket before pulling it back. “There would’ve been a lot of blood when they were killed. There’s almost none.”
William had always had a good eye for tracking. Some of the Shoshone men at Fort Washakie helped to hone that skill. It was one of the reasons Carl deputized him and usually wanted him on a posse.
Carl looked back down at the ground then ran a hand over his mouth. He saw the same thing William had. The older man let out a long, low stream of curses. “They were dumped here.” He looked back up at William. “Why would someone dump a couple bodies just off your ranch, Will?”
He drew in a long breath. He’d already given Carl his theory. “You know why.”
Carl shook his head. “You still don’t know it’s him. Maybe this was the most convenient place to drop them.”
William kept his gaze steady on the sheriff’s face until the other man’s shoulders stooped. “Okay, I guess that doesn’t sound quite right either. You still have no proof Thomas did this. He’s your brother, Will. Why would he do something like this?”
“Last time I saw him he tried to kill me. Why would you put something like this past him?”
The sheriff pushed his hat back on his head. “That was a misunderstanding. He was angry because he thought you tried to steal his girl.”
“It was no misunderstanding. That’s the lie Ma prefers to believe. Thomas is always angry. I don’t think he knows anything else.”
“Knowin’ that, you should have more sense than trying to go after him without more proof. I can’t haul him in because you say so. I’d have to find him first.”
William clenched his jaw, his fist tightening at his side. “He’s capable of this. He wants me to know he’s around. What if it’s Anna he comes after next? He’s tried to take her from me since I met her.”
“He wouldn’t dare do that. He has to know you’d never stop hunting him down if he hurt her.” The sheriff sighed before turning back to the bodies. “Doesn’t look like we can get a wagon back here.”
William shook his head. “No. We’ll have to haul them out on the horses. I didn’t want to move them before you saw it.”
The sheriff studied him for a moment. “I believe someone put them here. I’m not so sure it was your brother.”
“I am. Even if I can’t prove it, I’ll protect my family from him. That’s a promise I made years ago. I won’t break it now.”
“Wouldn’t expect less from you, Will. Come on, let’s get these bodies out of here.”
#
William still smelled the death on him. He’d helped the sheriff haul the bodies back to his own barn, where he’d put them in the wagon and driven them into town with Carl sitting on the seat beside him. They’d been given over to the undertaker and put on display in case anyone came to claim them. He’d cleaned up as soon as he returned home, but he couldn’t get rid of the memory of that smell.
Neither Anna nor David noticed as he’d changed his clothes and got everything ready to go to the Flying B, where his stepfather ran his own cattle. It was connected to his own Rocking J by a thin strip of land neither of them used.
Anna sat beside him on the seat, her hand on his leg as he guided the horses on the path to his parents’ ranch. David bounced in the bed of the wagon, not just because of the roughness of the trail, but excited to be going somewhere. The boy held on tight to his small hand-carved train Patrick had made for him. He took it everywhere.
Anna’s hand squeezed, and she leaned a little closer to him. She knew about the bodies and had known him long enough to understand what he felt. She hadn’t asked him any questions or tried to assure him everything would be fine. They both knew better.
His parents’ ranch came into view, and his shoulders relaxed as relief flooded through him. He hadn’t realized until now how worried he’d been they would be attacked. It had been years since there’d been trouble with Indians around here.
It wasn’t Indians he worried about anyway.
He stopped the horses in front of the house and lifted a hand in greeting to the man standing on the porch. Patrick Bailey had been his father for as long as he remembered. He had no memories of his own father. His mother told him he’d died fighting during the War for the Union when they’d still lived in Pennsylvania. William had been young, not even half a year. His father had never even seen him.
His mother cried whenever he asked her about the man. He’d turned to his next best source, his older brother. His brother had gone the other way, getting angry when he asked. Like he didn’t have a right to know anything about their father. Even the simplest question would risk a harsh word from his brother, or more likely a raised fist. He’d stopped asking.
Then, Patrick came along. His mother stopped crying, but his brother got angrier. William hadn’t known what to think. For the first time, someone paid attention to him. Patrick worked on a farm, and he’d brought William along with him. Took him to the creek to fish, out in the woods to hunt for their dinner. He didn’t know if his own father would have done as much.
William jumped down and tied the horse’s reins around the hitching rail, giving each horse a gentle pat before turning away. Patrick had already helped Anna from the seat. David got down on his own and scampered over to his grandfather.
Will’s mother stood in the doorway. There were more lines in her face than he remembered, and she seemed thinner. No, that must be a trick of the light. She turned away, and he couldn’t deny that flash of pain. For more than six years, there’d been this distance between them. Ever since Patrick forced Thomas to leave the ranch on William’s behalf. Like it had been his fault Thomas tried to kill him. Because of Anna.
He looked over at his wife and saw the sympathy in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, just looped her arm through his as they walked up to the house. When they reached the door, Patrick pulled his attention away.
“Sarah doesn’t have dinner ready quite yet. Anna, why don’t you and David go on inside? I have something to discuss with Will.”
He hesitated. He didn’t want to send them in there alone even though neither ever acted like there was a problem when they were alone with his mother. It was only him. “I’ll be in in a bit,” he told her.